| Malos_Yhemn | Date: Thursday, 12 Jul 2012, 12:32 PM | Message # 1 |
 Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 49
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| Antared III was a cesspit, or so Malos Yhemn thought as he navigated a darkened alleyway that was teeming with roaches, rats and more than the occasional drunk; some of which he was sure were more than passed out and had indeed passed on to whatever afterlife existed. Here in the Esstran Sector of the Borderland Regions though, such was commonplace, almost more commonplace than one would find outside of Hutt Space or perhaps one of the less-controlled Outer Rim worlds. It was certainly no Coruscant, that was for sure. Boasting only three major cities, Durollia, Pegg and Hermos, Antared III was no paradise, but what cities they were! Large for a world with a population of less than one million, the cities seemed as if they held ninety-nine percent of the aforementioned population within their walls. Pegg, the city Yhemn was currently working his way through, was the largest of the cities, all of which had the honor of being spaceport-equipped.
On a world as lawless as this, where the Empire had little in the way of a presence and where pirates sold their wares openly on the city streets, Yhemn blended in with hardly a second glance. It was Antared III though that was the current target of his skills. He had done well on Telos IV, so his contact had said. He'd been granted a hefty sum of credits for a job pulled off exceptionally well, and he'd retained his team to the man. This ten-man team, the core of the army he'd been instructed to build, was on Antared III with him, minus of course Perry Crass who'd gone into deep hiding, or so the man from Blackfire said. To Yhemn, that meant Perry was indeed getting an extreme makeover or he was being digested in the belly of some creature. Either way, the man had been expendable to Yhemn. Here on Antared III though, while his blaster and skills would come in handy, it was his diplomacy that the mission weighed heavily upon. His primary task was to convince the wealthy criminal organizations who more or less ran the trio of cities (and hence, the world) to back him. His secondary task was to recruit suitable members of a multitude of species for the army he was building at Blackfire's request. Yhemn was no stranger to combat, or to leading men for that matter. He had his own suspicions about Blackfire and his contact. Of course, he was wiser than to try tracking down these suspicions and thoughts; they paid well and kept him in fair business.
Having made his way through the alley, pausing only to kick a drunk viciously in the face when the man grabbed his armored leg and begged for change, Yhemn emerged back out onto the city street. With the upcoming memorials for the Clone Wars being held across the galaxy, it seemed Antared III was holding its own memorial in its own way: an apparent week or so of binge drinking, rowdy bar fights and people telling stories about the Clone Wars that Yhemn wouldn't have believed if he'd been at the battle with them and, while overhearing some of the stories, realizing he had been at that particular battle or place. His goal tonight was an eight-story club that offered dancing, spice, gambling and, so he'd heard, a variety of women. The owner of the club though, was what brought him there. The youngest of six children, Hiram Cantelagno was the baby of the Cantelagno crime family that oversaw Pegg. He was a spoiled brat by all sounds of it, having been babied in more ways than one and, at the tender age of twenty-two, was likely to be very impressionable. It was this nature of the beast that Yhemn was going to call upon to make his sales pitch, so to speak. Barring that, he had an escape route planned and a few weapons stashed along the way. Ideally, it wouldn't come to that.
An armored figure stepping into the club drew a few stares. One of the thuggish Gamorrean bouncers made as if to rise and move towards him, but Yhemn's t-visor gaze locked onto the pig-like being's eyes and the Gamorrean sat down heavily. Next to him, a Weequay leaned forward and growled in harshly accented Basic, "No trouble here, you. Leave rifle at door. We no like trouble." With a slow nod, Yhemn slowly reached back and removed his precious X-45 from the shoulder sling and handed it to the Gamorrean, who toted the weapon off to the arms holding room that clubs of this sort had for patrons. When the Weequay gave Yhemn a lifted brow that Yhemn took to mean, 'do you have more weapons?' Yhemn twitched his cloak aside to show the row of thermal detonators and waggled a finger. Without waiting to see if the Weequay acknowledged or not, the contractor plunged through the crowd, his senses heightened despite the thudding loud music and the writhing bodies of the dancers around him. He hated working through areas like this and as he came to the closest wall, he made a space about himself, giving a look around. There, across from where he was and offset were the stairs that led to the second story and, more importantly, a half-story balcony that served as a VIP area. That was a good place to start.
Added (19 Apr 2012, 7:31 PM)
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Looking back as he mounted the stairs, Yhemn spotted the Weequay from his elevated position speaking frantically into a handheld comm. Smiling grimly under his helmet, Yhemn continued up the steps, expecting what he knew was coming. Sure enough, as he came to the final three steps, a burly Weequay came rushing towards him, hands outstretched to grab. Yhemn dropped his right shoulder and twisted his body slightly to give him leverage, catching the Weequay squarely in the solar plexus and then straightening and twisting upwards, using the alien's movement against him to pitch the Weequay over his back and crashing down the stairs. Gaining the landing, Yhemn took a quick assessment of his remaining adversaries: there was a squat, muscled Rodian, an angry-looking Gran and quite possibly the largest Gamorrean Yhemn had ever seen; a formidable team. Before he could do anything though, the Rodian rushed him.
The Rodian had a lot of strength, for one of its race, and it was used to street brawling, but Yhemn was used to combat fighting in the Clone Wars. He spun the side, dodging the rush and kicked out where he knew the Rodian's knee would be. He was rewarded by a howl of pain and a satisfying crunch as the Rodian's knee snapped inwards, dropping the alien to the floor. Yhemn spun to meet the Gran, but a powerful blow between his shoulders threw him forwards in a roll that brought him to his knees, pain spreading along his back. "Gamorreans," he grunted. With him at the disadvantage, the Gran launched a thrust-kick at his face. Snapping his head to the side, Yhemn allowed the kick to pass over his shoulder. Locking his hands above the knee, he brought them down, smashing a second knee joint in as many minutes and then wrenched the Gran's leg aside, flipping the stunned and shocked alien into a heap. Before he could rise, though, an extremely large hand wrapped itself around his throat, lifting him off the ground bodily and beginning to squeeze the life out of him.
As Yhemn struggled to pry the fingers from his throat, he dimly registered a voice in the background: "That's enough, Gatogg. Let him go. I'm curious why this man has come all this way to damage my security." The hand released Yhemn to drop in a heap. Raising his head, he saw a low table, beyond which was a plush couch crowded with scantily-clad or fully nude Twi'lek and human women who all clustered about a pale-faced callow youth. "Hiram Cantelagno, I presume?"
"You presume correct, stranger. You've come a long way to find me, especially if you felt the need to injure some of my best security. They tend to get overzealous... but not everybody is foolish enough to walk in with a belt of thermal detonators. Yes, they mentioned you had not left all your armaments at the gate, so to speak. Nonetheless, stranger, you're tenacious and quick. What is it you want?"
Added (23 May 2012, 8:11 AM)
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With the oversize Gamorrean, Gatogg, at his back, Yhemn felt it prudent to speak quickly and to the point. The belt of thermal detonators at his waist didn't seem as if it would be a very good idea and he crossed his arms in front of his chest instead. Still feeling the burn from the death-grip that had been upon his throat, Yhemn did pause long enough to stretch his neck to either side, refraining from rubbing the sore area. The sounds of the club were still quite prominent, but other members of Cantelagno's security staff were helping the injured or unconscious out of the VIP area.
"Mr. Cantelagno, I'm a messenger of sorts. Not the most diplomatic, perhaps, but a messenger nonetheless. If you'll forgive my presumption, I've done my homework on Antared III. I know that Pegg is ruled by your family and rivaled by the crime families that oversee Durollia and Hermos. I'm also aware that each family wants Antared III firmly in their own grasp and not share with two others. The problem in this is that the balance of power is kept in check by the extra family; if one makes a move, the other two will join forces, yet no two will join to a distinct advantage. Am I correct so far?"
Hiram Cantelagno, sipping a drink that was so bright blue it seemed almost painful to look at, simply nodded and made a 'proceed' motion with his free hand. Yhemn took this as a good sign; as long as the man wasn't ordering him shot or dismissing his idea without a thought, this might well have a chance of success. At least Hiram was Yhemn's way in to the upper members of the Cantelagno family, to whom he could give a better offer.
"I've come with an offer from a much larger organization. They wish to back the Cantelagno family for full control of Antared III. In exchange, they wish to be able to sell certain goods on this world, under your family's supervision, that will be arranged in a mutually beneficial agreement to both of us."
The youngest Cantelagno was indeed a pretty boy-type and impressionable, but that didn't mean he was completely stupid, and Yhemn could see he was weighing Yhemn's words. Finally, after what seemed like a long time, Hiram Cantelagno nodded. "I can't give you the go-ahead, stranger. Your offer is interesting enough that I'm willing to get you a meeting with my father. I'm sure he'll want more details and a name. I have to have something to call you by."
"Yhemn. Malos Yhemn."
"Then it seems we have a meeting to attend, Mr. Yhemn."
Added (31 May 2012, 7:34 AM)
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The speedy meeting Yhemn had hoped for was delayed for roughly twelve hours as Hiram Cantelagno made the preparations. It wasn't to say that the youngest member of the crime family wasn't comfortable in bringing Yhemn to meet with his father, but that the Dubeck family who ran Durollia had engaged in a brief if bloody fight with some of the Cantelagno family's underlings and in result, the Cantelagno group was rather in a wary state. Nonetheless, Yhemn eventually did receive his audience. He was brought to a rather large penthouse that stretched more than eighty stories into the sky.
The penthouse was in a state of alert, that much he could tell. Being escorted by a quartet of Cantelagno goons and Hiram Cantelagno, he felt less than at ease, especially lacking all of his weapons, which Hiram had instructed him he would have to turn over. There was, of course, a small holdout dagger inside the heel of one of his boots, cleverly concealed and lined with scanner-blocking material to render it invisible to checks.
Added (09 Jun 2012, 4:59 PM)
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Yhemn's path led him to the top of the skyscraper. Windowed and bathed in mellow lighting, the large windows that surrounded the room in which he stood (reinforced, unless Yhemn missed a guess) offered an unparallelled view of the city around them. Angelo Cantelagno, the father of the Cantelagno criminal family, was attired in a dark business suit and seated behind a wide desk made of some expensive-looking wood that Yhemn could not identify. Cantelagno was an older man, pushing sixty, with a powerful frame that had only slightly gone to fat, but his presence was tangible almost. Behind and to either side, a pair of equally attired younger men stood at the ready, hands clasped before them, looking like nothing more than guard dogs waiting to attack. In retrospect, Yhemn supposed that was what they were. Yhemn was alone in the room; Hiram, after speaking with his father for what felt like eternity but was in actuality no more than twenty minutes or so, had left the office and was now waiting outside while the elder Cantelagno conversed with Yhemn.
"You've impressed my son, Mr. Yhemn, with brief combat tricks. I fear the boy is softer than he should be." Cantelagno's voice was deep and even, with a trace of a Corellian accent. "You will find, however, that I am not my son, and the ability to throw punches is not what makes or breaks an organization. Nonetheless, I'm intrigued by the offer you made to Hiram and I've done a bit of research on you. It seems you've a bit of a name for yourself among certain circles."
Yhemn shrugged from where he sat across from the crime boss. "A name is a name, Mr. Cantelagno. The reputation helps bring in money. Other than that, I do what I do and I happen to be blessed with the skills to do it."
"It makes me wonder. Why come to Antared III. There's no real profit for you here, unless you're looking to become a hired gun for one family or another. If that's the case, then I'd gladly welcome you with open arms, pending a test of your loyalty."
"I'm not here for myself, Mr. Cantelagno." Yhemn allowed a smile onto his face, beneath his helmet. "I'm here, as I told your son, as a representative. There are far larger organizations in the galaxy that are seeking allies, of a sort. Allies who can provide income, bodies and a number of other lucrative options in exchange for their support. I came to Antared III because the Cantelagno family has been here for three generations; a powerhouse on this planet. With the right amount of support, the Cantelagno family could run this world... under the Imperials, of course."
Angelo pursed his lips, looking thoughtful for a long moment. "And does this organization have a name? I doubt very much that the Imperials take too much interest in us; we're not much for branching out onto other worlds and we keep our business close to the chest. Still, I'm not fond of dealing with groups I don't know. I'm afraid until I hear more, I can't accept your offer, Mr. Yhemn."
Yhemn's mood soured as he listened to Cantelagno speak. Nonetheless, his control had given him certain leeway; Yhemn, after all, was a more valued business member for what he did. "It's not likely you've heard of them, Mr. Cantelagno. Their name isn't known for security. However, if that is the price for your agreement, then the name is Blackfire. I'll wait if you'd like to pull up some information, but as I said, I doubt you'll find anything."
Cantelagno tapped a few commands into his desk computer, studying the results for a few minutes before giving a grunt of annoyance. "Nobody seems to have heard of them. There's no information. People have heard of the Hutts, of Black Sun, of a dozen other criminal elements. I can't simply take your word for it, Mr. Yhemn. I'd like more proof before I make a final decision."
That was the break Yhemn had been waiting for, and the smile returned to his face. "Blackfire is willing to make a compromise in this matter, Mr. Cantelagno. I'm sure your rival families have their own front businesses; shipping, transport, something of the kind. Blackfire is willing to remove certain elements of their income for you in as proof so that you might consider their offer."
"Proof, eh? A free deal that seems almost too good to pass up. I'll take that offer, Mr. Yhemn. If nothing else, my enemies suffer and I profit. Here, I'll give you several co-ordinates of where my dear rivals keep their spice shipments. Freight times as well. If your people can live up to their word, you'll have yourself a deal."
Added (15 Jun 2012, 9:52 AM)
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It was three days after the meeting he'd held with Angelo Cantelagno and Yhemn was beginning to wonder exactly what had gone wrong. Yhemn was lying on his side in a ditch that provided just enough cover that the opposition couldn't accurately target him. Next to him lay the charred and smoking pieces of what were barely identified as Rodian flesh. Breevis, who'd been with him at Telos IV, had caught a round squarely from an anti-vehicular cannon and been splattered across the forest landscape and Yhemn's armor. Several hundred meters across the wide dirt road that separated Yhemn from his destination were at least a dozen well-armed members of the Callahan family who ran Hermos. They'd set up a heavy cannon and a damn good ambush. Yhemn had come into this mission with the majority of his old crew from Telos IV and a dozen mercenaries Yhemn's control in Blackfire had hired for him. He wasn't sure how many he'd lost, but he was sure it was more than he'd wanted.
One of the other easily visible casualties had been one of the few Cantelagno men who'd been on the plan; one of three, in fact, counting Angelo Cantelagno himself. This had been one of the pair of guard dogs Yhemn had seen on his first meeting with the elder Cantelagno; the muscle called himself Zeke, and Zeke was now no longer Zeke. Zeke was charred and burned from the numerous laser blasts that had stitched across his upper body and dropped him in the road when Yhemn's team moved to take their destination. That happy spot was some hundred meters beyond the strong point the Callahan gang had setup. A squat, one-story duracrete bunker that hunkered down in a clearing that offered enough room for a Corellian freighter to land and depart, the Callahan gang's spice storage facility extended some four stories below the ground, spread out to allow for the large operation.
The intelligence had been provided from Angelo Cantelagno via a spy he'd placed in the Callahan organization. Yhemn decided that if he survived this debacle, he was going to have words with Cantelagno about spies in his organization. With only four people knowing Yhemn's plan, he had a good idea exactly who said spy might be and how he could deal with the man; dealing with that issue required him to survive the current predicament he was in though. A hand signal notified the Argazdan, Grekkik, and the Trandoshan, Yeekry, who were hunched down some ten meters away. Yeekry clutched a Stouker concussion rifle in his claws, hugging it to his chest and Grekkik was similarly armed with the group's second heaviest weapon, a PLX-1 missile launcher. Of all Yhemn's forces present, Yhemn and Grekkik were the ones most capable of engaging the forces in the distance.
Added (24 Jun 2012, 6:54 AM)
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Utilizing further hand signals, Yhemn instructed Yeekry, Grekkik and five of the Cantelagno fighters to crawl west along the gully. One hundred and fifty meters west, the gully emerged behind a small hillock that would provide cover and a fighting position to engage the turret with the rocket launcher. Unfortunately, to keep them from immediately locking on to Yhemn's flanking force, Yhemn and the remaining soldiers would have to engage, at least briefly, the operators of the cannon. What troubled Yhemn was that the Callahan forces hadn't rushed his positions, which led Yhemn to believe that something worse was in the works; perhaps an aerial attack, or better yet, an armored ground attack. Either way, Yhemn knew they had to move as quickly as possible.
As Grekkik and Yeekry moved with the forces under them, Yhemn could hear certain sounds in the distance, engines of some kind. It was less than a few moments later that the bad news came in through his secure earpiece within his helmet. "You've got some incoming," Hinot's relatively calm voice emerged in Yhemn's ear. "Two All Terrain Recon Transports, four WW-676 repulsor sleds with grenade launchers and... you're not going to like this one but it looks like a pair of K-222 interceptors."
Yhemn grunted an acknowledgement. Things had just gone from bad to worse. they had to get into that subterranean facility quick, but now they simply didn't have time. Yhemn was going to need some backup. "Hinot, I'm going to need your flying skills. Get the Chigliak to cover us. I'm going to pull down the Winter Dream as a distraction as well. Get those interceptors off of us as quick as you can."
Added (08 Jul 2012, 10:03 PM)
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The sound of the K-222 interceptors as they approached the site was unmistakable. The sound of their fire-linked laser cannon was even worse as the blasts tore through the trees where Yhemn and his men were hunkered down. Wood exploded, super-heated and flew like shrapnel over the heads of those who were hugging the ground with little chance to move as the first strafing run swept by. Yhemn, unable to see Grekkik, Yeekry and their group, could only curse as he realized the Callahan troops planned to pin them down with their air support and force them into a vise between the vehicles and the heavy cannon.
Having already tapped out the automated commands to call the Winter Dream into a low flyby several hundred meters away, Yhemn knew it would likely be too late. He could hear the interceptors coming around for another pass. Behind him, he could hear even louder swearing as the dozen mercenaries and the three Cantelagno men tried to set up a rearward firing position with a cut-down E-web. Even with the heavy cannon's assistance, the repulsor sleds and recon transports were much more heavily armed. The second pass of the K-222s netted no casualties, but Yhemn and his men were still in place. Gritting his teeth under his helmet, Yhemn hefted his X-45, peering just over the edge of the gully as the vehicles came into sight, distant across the sparse treeline just south of the gully.
The grenades began to fall, starting some four hundred meters east of Yhemn's forces. Without a direct line of sight and with his forces spread out, the sled gunners had no clear idea, but they certainly had enough grenades to blanket the treeline. With the walkers providing a mobile defensive line at such a distance of five-hundred meters, the sleds had an optimal firing range while staying outside the reach of the common blaster rifles wielded by the mercenaries. They needed a break soon, or they were all gone.
The roar of an engine gave Yhemn hope as the computerized systems on board the Winter Dream brought it plummeting out of the sky to fly a terrain-following circle just above the trees. It would be a short-lived relief, he knew, for without a gunner there was no offensive ability on the ship while remote-piloted and the pair of interceptors were armed with concussion missiles. As he'd predicted, they altered their course to cut off the shuttle's path.
A dark shadow blotted out the sun for a moment and the heavier roar of larger engines took over. An elongated shape flashed overhead, falling into line behind the pair of interceptors as Hinot arrived at the last moment with the Chigliak. The transport's laser cannon and quad laser cannon spat fire and one of the interceptors exploded into chunks of metal that rained across the forest. The second interceptor broke off wildly, fleeing southward with the Chigliak in hot pursuit. It was evident from the way the fire slackened that the ground forces had not expected Yhemn to have aerial support and in that moment, Yhemn seized his chance. Bracing the X-45, he lined up on the closest AT-RT, whose pilot had remained frozen as he watched the combat unfolding above. Yhemn's finger lightly depressed the trigger and the pilot tumbled off the vehicle, rendering the AT-RT harmless. "Engage, engage, engage," Yhemn ordered. Off to the west, the unmistakable 'whoosh' of a PLX-1 firing could be heard. A moment later, the roar of a detonation; the flanking force had succeeded in destroying the blaster cannon with the unexpected strike.
In the confusion of the moment, four of the mercenaries and two of the Cantelagno men broke cover, moving forwards towards the vehicles they'd believed caught by surprise. Five hundred meters was a fair distance though, and even with sparse cover, the odds were not perfect. Quick to recover, the remaining AT-RT stitched a line of laser fire across the attacking line, followed by the repeated thumps of the grenade launchers as they now had clear targets. Two of the men went down under the cannon fire; the remaining six disappearing in clouds of smoke and flame from the grenade strikes. Yhemn could not tell if they were dead or wounded or had gone to ground; he focused on the task at hand. The targeting reticule settled on the second AT-RT driver's bare head and he fired again. Two for two, now.
With their skirmishing support now defunct, the sled pilots began to withdraw, steadily lobbing grenades, but Yhemn was far from done. Knowing the fragility of the WW-676 system, Yhemn began firing at the retreating sleds. One of the pilots jerked and slumped to the side as the sled came to a stop. The gunner, realizing he was all alone, dove for the high grass and disappeared. A second sled veered to the side and struck the ground at an angle, hurling its occupants off. Yhemn supposed his shot hit the steering vane or perhaps the repulsor unit. He hadn't been too picky. One of the mercenary snipers had gotten lucky and managed to kill the driver and gunner of a third sled and the fourth disappeared into the trees, fleeing the scene.
Added (09 Jul 2012, 4:36 PM)
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"Skirmish line, provide covering fire and advance. Bravo team, sweep and clear." Yhemn and his remaining nine soldiers turned and advanced, firing and advancing in pairs as they closed the gap between themselves and the destroyed cannon. Two of the Callahan men had survived the rocket and were cut down quickly in their disoriented state. As Yhemn's team approached the solitary door into the bunker, it swung open and a handful of Callahan soldiers poured out, laying down a withering field of fire that took down one of his mercenaries as the rest of his men hit the ground for cover.
The unmistakable flash and crash of a concussion rifle's explosive blue-white burst caused Yhemn's viewport to go opaque for a moment as Yeekry opened fire, finally in range, and leveled the defensive troops. In the relative silence, Yhemn rose, then closed on the open entrance. Looking for traps, he slung the X-45 and drew his sidearm, a deadly KYD-21, before moving inside, stacked as a four-man group and followed by the remainder of the forces. Leaving three men to guard the only apparent way in or out, Yhemn and his team quickly descended the switchback durasteel staircase several floors down. Yhemn estimated nearly five stories when they came to a heavy blast door that was open; apparently the Callahan forces had not prepared or expected them to make it this far.
Opening the door cautiously, Yhemn finally viewed what lay within the well-lit room and gave a low whistle of wonder. The Callahan family was a major spice player, it seemed. Stacked in multitudes of containers lay an equal multitude of varieties of spice. As they moved into the room, the mercenaries also gave mutters or exclamations of amazement. "Catalog what you see," Yhemn ordered, "Then prepare it for transport to the surface." There, at the back of the room, a set of recessed double doors led to what Yhemn would bet a good bit of money led to a concealed elevator to the surface.
As the men spread out within the room, different voices made different calls. "Booster Blue, Thruster Head and Neutron Pixie over here... someone was about to have a very good day."
"Tirefin? I haven't seen this kind in a year or so... maybe it's making a return?"
"Whoa... they have pyrepenol! I had a cousin tried that once... dove off a building 'cause he thought he could survive. What a moron."
"Here's some labeled 'Nyriaan.' Haven't seen much of this around, but my brother does a bit of smuggling for the kajidics. They deal in this."
"Boss! They got Gunjack! This stuff is awesome. I've seen a man wrestle a Gammorrean on this and actually win!"
Several other varieties came into light: carsunum, engspice, Gannarian narco-spice and even giggledust. The entire haul, when totaled up would net them a ton or more worth of spice. Yhemn wasted no time and organized the mercenaries into work parties, transporting the spice onto repulsor-lifters to load to the elevator. As Yhemn ascended via the stairway, he was contacted by a very smug-sounding Hinot. "That last pilot won't be telling any stories. He's a permanent part of the landscape now. Incidentally, the boys you left with me thought you might like some new hardware. We have a perfectly good pair of AT-RT transports on board, an undamaged repulsor sled, one slightly damaged sled and one that's good for spare parts."
"Good job Hinot. Set down on the coordinates I'm sending to you. There's a few more presents we need to pick up. You take our boys and head out-system. I have a visit to pay to Angelo Cantelagno."
Added (12 Jul 2012, 12:32 PM)
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Malos Yhemn was dirty, tired, battered from the ordeal, and it was nightfall when he finally walked back in to Angelo Cantelagno's penthouse. The crime lord looked him up and down and chuckled slightly. "It seems, Mr. Yhemn, that you were successful. I hear you ran into a bit of trouble, but nothing your resourcefulness could not handle, apparently." Yhemn gave the solitary man standing guard over Cantelagno a long look.
"Sorry about the loss of your men. Zeke, I'm sure, was a great help to you. The reason, however, we ran into so much trouble was that it wasn't planned." Cantelagno arched an eyebrow and motioned for Yhemn to continue. "There were only four of us in this room when we laid out the plan. Myself, you, Zeke... and your man Derrek there." Yhemn watched as the hulking guard shifted slightly. "Strange," Yhemn continued, "That the Callahan soldiers knew our exact route. I'd say you aren't the only one with a spy in their organization, Mr. Cantelagno. As Zeke isn't with us anymore... that points to one man."
Cantelagno half-turned to regard Derrek. "An accusation against you, Derrek? What do you have to say?" The big guard looked perplexed for a moment. "Well boss, I can't say that I'd ever turn against you." His hand shot under his jacket and came out with a disruptor pistol. For an old man, though, Cantelagno was far faster. Even as Derrek was lining up for a shot on Yhemn, Cantelagno fired the blaster he pulled from under his desk. Waving away the guards who rushed in at the noise, Cantelagno waited until the door was closed to look back to Yhemn.
"That's twice you've proved yourself, Mr. Yhemn. You and I... Blackfire and I, have an accord."
Malos Yhemn
Contractor
Message edited by Malos_Yhemn - Saturday, 28 Jul 2012, 5:13 AM |
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